America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Bruce pressed his hands against the old chain-link fence: "Heard that old bastard Jack Davis ran off, the boss sent me to remind you not to forget the debt you borrowed, the first payment is due next week."

The debt was personally borrowed by the former Martin Davis; Martin had no choice but to brace himself and deal with it: "It's not overdue yet."

"Just a friendly reminder, be ready." Bruce withdrew his hands, brushed off the rust, grabbed his belt to hitch up his trousers, the jacket parted on either side to reveal the handgun tucked under his arm.

He chuckled and said, "Don't worry, we at the House of Beast are civilized folks, the boss always teaches us to obey the law."

Martin glanced at the handgun, and the first thought that crossed his mind was to run.

The normal response to being unable to pay off a debt wasn't to sell oneself, but to run away.

But how could he run away without money?

Recalling something Elena had said, Martin asked, "Buddy, do the dancers at the House of Beast make good money?"

He remembered that being a dancer was a legal profession, he would be earning his own keep, which was not embarrassing.

"If you're lucky, you can make a lot of tips every night." Bruce eyed Martin carefully, noticing his well-proportioned physique and handsome appearance. He smiled more heartily: "House of Beast just opened and is short of people, you know the place, go there directly if you want to be a dancer. You have the right look, middle-aged women going crazy with thirst love your type.

Buddy, you could make big money."

Could it be an option? Martin vaguely responded, "I'll think about it."

Bruce drove off.

Voices carried over from the yard next door; Elena's brother Holle was still laboriously digging holes.

Martin prepared to chase after the building maintenance business to claim his wages, to solve the pressing problem of what to eat; although living off others was nice, it couldn't last forever.

After thinking it through, Max's office, from where he had to claim his building repair salary, was a bit far from the Clayton Community. It would take a long time to get there on foot, and with his leg injury unhealed, he could not walk very far without making it worse, which would cost even more money.

His only choice was the bus.

Atlanta's public transport was terrible, but there was a bus route that went directly from the Clayton Community to the street where Max's office was located. A one-way bus ticket cost fifty cents.

Martin pulled out his wallet, which was completely empty. The little money he had left had been spent by Harris on medicine for his injury.

Doctor Bill only prescribed veterinary medicine, which Martin wouldn't dare to take even if it was free.

Glancing next door, Martin dismissed the idea of robbing the little kid and went back inside to look around, only finding a 25-cent coin.

Martin remembered that Elena's father Scott had opened a general store that took in stolen goods and junk, and he couldn't help but assess the wooden structure of his house.

There was only the most basic old sofa, low wooden table, and broken wooden bed, any furniture or appliance of slight value had already been taken away by the Carter family to sell for money.

What was left wasn't just broken, but also incredibly heavy.

With a leg injury, it was impractical for Martin to haul a sofa or table to sell, so he took an insulated pliers with worn insulation from the drawer of the low wooden table, went to the side of the yard adjoining the Carter's, cut the rusty chain-link fence, and rolled it up.

With many sharp ends left where the wire was cut, it was inconvenient to carry, so Martin went back inside and after looking around some more, pulled out a rope from under the bed.

"Selling the Carter family's chain-link fence to Scott Carter, could that work?" Martin thought it shouldn't be a problem since many houses in the community had similar fences.

Suddenly, a scream came from next door; it sounded like Harris.

Martin quickly went outside, striding toward the Carter's house.

In the Carter family's yard, a bicycle lay on the ground, next to it a dirt hole, and fine dirt was trickling into the hole along a collapsed cardboard.

Harris was sitting on the ground, clutching his arm, tears streaming down from the pain.

The ten-year-old Holle Carter stood in front of him, taunting: "Loser, get up, don't be such a sissy!"

Harris shouted back, "Shut up, idiot! There's a ninety percent chance my left arm is broken!"

Holle's tone softened a bit: "I was just joking with you; I made a little trap, you're too soft..."

Having seen arm fractures when he was a stunt double, Martin came over, took a closer look, and said, "Tough luck, you've hit the jackpot, your left arm is broken."

"Damn it!" Harris was sweating profusely from the pain.

Holle shifted guiltily, stepping back until she plopped down on the ground.

Martin saw Harris had no other injuries and said, "You need treatment. I'll take you to Doctor Bill; you've said his medical skills are excellent."

A look of horror crossed Harris's face, "Bill is awful with fractures; going to him means there's a hundred percent chance I'll end up disabled."

"The Carter family will get an extra disability allowance!" Martin jabbed, reminding in the same breath, "Don't move your left arm."

Footsteps hurried, and the door creaked open as Lily Carter, fourteen, burst out asking, "What the hell did you two idiots do? Holle, where did this damn hole come from?"

Martin cut her off, "Quick, tell your sister that Harris broke his arm."

"I'll go borrow a phone from Mrs. Wood." Lily sprinted diagonally across the street.

Martin purposely spoke to distract Harris, "You've come back already?"

Clutching his teeth, Harris said, "The Cole sisters had something urgent; they weren't home."

Less than a few minutes later, Lily returned with a phone, saying, "Elena has borrowed a car and is on her way back."

Hearing Elena's name, Holle pushed herself up with her hands, inching her backside backward, trying to put some distance between them.

The place where Elena did odd jobs was not far, and she quickly drove back.

In her rush, she even hadn't changed out of her pants resembling a teddy bear costume.

Upon seeing Harris's condition, Elena first checked her wallet for money, pulling out several one-dollar and five-dollar bills and two twenty-dollar bills, panicking in circles, "Don't panic, I'll figure out a way, damn it, there must be a way!"

After just eating a week's worth of free meals, Martin patted her shoulder, "Give me the car keys."

Elena instinctively handed over the keys.

"You all wait here, I'm going to get money." Martin took the keys and headed for the car.

Suddenly, Lily Carter caught up, shoving the borrowed phone into Martin's hands, "Take this, and if we can't pay it back, find Elena at any time..."

Her longest finger extended, retreated, then extended again.

Martin pressed against Lily's forehead and pushed her away.

Getting into the car, he became acquainted with the gearshift for a moment, recalled its feel, then started the vehicle and drove out of Clayton Community, speeding southward.

Max's office was on the edge of the Marietta Business District, a distance from the Clayton neighborhood's street where the road was old and in disrepair, filled with potholes, which slowed the car's speed.

It took Martin half an hour to reach a four-story office building, where he parked and went inside, finding Max's repair company sign on the second floor.

Knocking on the door, a stocky Latino man asked, "You need something?"

Martin replied, "I'm one of Mr. Max's workers, here to talk to him about work."

The blinds in the internal office were pulled back, and a voice said, "Martin, come in."

Martin entered the inner office, swiftly scanning the space. Teddy bears of various sizes adorned the showcase, shelves, and the office desk.

Even the two family portraits set on the desk used a large teddy bear as their backdrop.

In the pictures stood a family of four, each face beaming with happiness.

A cozy, joyful family that also loved teddy bears.

People who were good at working the system had keen observational skills. Martin noticed something else.

Scattered white powder edged the documents piled on the wooden desk, middle-aged Max enjoyed sniffling, a few unnoticeable white particles clung to the hairs protruding from his nostrils, and the eyes above his large nose were red and bloodshot.

Such people, coming from the lower strata, were all too familiar to Martin Davis, like Scott Carter and Emma-Carter.

Max, looking rather excited, asked, "Have your injuries healed up?"

Martin said, "My head keeps feeling heavy, it hurts on and off, and my leg is in pain too."

"You're here for your paycheck, I understand." Max opened the central drawer, took out a cashier's check, and slid it to Martin, "This is for you."